


brown coat

by hiddenclawsof



Series: #hyunlixcloud [9]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Comfort, Dancer Hwang Hyunjin, Explicit Language, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Neck Kissing, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Ramen, cursing, nothing detailed, philosophical, writer felix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28141731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenclawsof/pseuds/hiddenclawsof
Summary: As a writer, Felix had to think of numerous symbolisms that the scattered things around his room could offer in order to finally be able to write the love story that he promised his publishing company. He cannot write something that he didn’t know so Hyunjin and the brown coat took it inside their hands tohelpFelix.
Relationships: Hwang Hyunjin & Lee Felix, Hwang Hyunjin/Lee Felix
Series: #hyunlixcloud [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942687
Comments: 19
Kudos: 64





	brown coat

**Author's Note:**

> i have been keeping this inside my folder for far too long. also, i kind of projected myself to felix here, _no not the naughty felix,_ so yeah fair warning! hehe.

**_03:05_ **

People always tell Felix that his job seems like a chore. He racks his head and brain, squeezes words after words, trying to connect them into a single phrase that eventually leads to paragraphs and then filling out an entire blank page. But the thing is, it does not just stop there. It has to continue. From a mere 50 worded prompt, to be translated to an entire novel of almost a hundred thousand words and hundred pages-- well, maybe,  _ there,  _ Felix could agree that his job is quite a chore.

To write something on a whim is something that always feels magical to Felix. It amazes him how his words transpire to his readers’ minds, hearts and actually be able to influence them into a certain propaganda, agenda or concept. Although that was never his intention, the words he speaks seem too powerful. Even if he gives enough notices that fictions are fictions for a reason, he knew for a fact that while he escapes through writing, people who read his books are also going through the same thing that he is going through.

They escape--  _ you  _ escape by reading.

Mystery, slice of life, humour and love story. All of them can be put down into a single narration, reflecting the depths of the reality. And while it was a fiction, a speckle of truth, lies, imaginations and emotions was there, unbeknownst to the most. 

Felix loves writing. He loves everything about it. 

But sometimes, he wakes up, fully pumped up to finally sit on his office chair, turn on its massaging function, turn the lights on, open the window for ventilation and stack at least 3 bottled water beside him, he still couldn’t move his fingers.  _ Damn these fingers.  _ The cursor of his wicked laptop, blinking line that curses him to get himself together and the unfiltered blue light that mocks him for his stagnant behavior and his unmotivated self makes him want to just resign from being a writer that is compelled with the deadlines here and there and apply to a certain book shop, selling hardbound fanfiction from the internet.

He knew that writing has to mean something and that something has to inflict a lesson or two in someone’s life. The way his writing style should adjust to his words, the emotions he brings, jot down and ramble on a piece of software were proof enough.

Of what exactly?

He doesn’t even know either.

He pressed letters here and there. A protagonist with a trauma from his childhood resulting to his bashful demeanor, meeting a love-interest that’s just sweet, lovely and full of hope and eventually ending up to be the protagonist’s primary support in life as the partner strives to hold their hands and guide him to the light-- that was his main idea as soon as the letters he pressed turned to something that he fambles about and eventually deleting them all at once. So what was he writing anyway? A typical manuscript for a korean drama? The base, the root, the  _ origin  _ of everything that seems far  _ too  _ unique for people’s taste?

Don’t get him wrong, okay. Felix is an  _ avid  _ fan of romance. He loves reading romance and he loves writing romance. He loves happy endings. He loves the panic, the rush, the surprises, the squealing here and there; he loves everything there is in  _ love stories _ .

He can never really blame people for wanting something good from the fictions. The world is already too mean to be pained and be hurt by the imagination so why choose despair? He dreaded that feeling. He dreaded having to share the same pain with the protagonist as they get hurt in the process of looking for themselves, he dreaded having to tear his eyes up, pull facial tissues from his side drawer and press it on to his face.

He doesn’t like sadness, okay? He doesn’t want to be sad.

Because why would you escape into a place that will not make you feel far fetched from reality?

So when his readers ask him to stop hurting them, trust him, he gets you.

But what he’s been meaning for people to understand is that words are just words. They won’t mean anything unless you want them to; unless you have a reason to. You have to get your identity through it, you have to be unique.

And to be unique is something that is hard to get.

For the third time this day, his fingers worked their way down the blank document and started filling it up with anything that his mind wanders to. A vase filled with daisies?  _ Feigned innocence.  _ A brown coat hung on the clothes rack just beside his door?  _ A sign of someone promising to come back _ . Printed copies of his works, stuffed in the drawer just below his desk?  _ Rushing, running, afraid of who’s catching up _ . Everything can be an enough symbolism,  _ everything _ .

But not everything can tell him how to write  _ love _ .

His eyes shifted to his cellphone and ended up calling his friend’s number and after a few rings, he heard a very deep sigh and a grumble, “It’s three in the morning Lix, please tell me this is important,” which made Felix let out a nervous chuckle. He always dials this number whenever he reaches a  _ slump--  _ a point where everything can be an inspiration but his mind just decides to ignore them and give him a headache and a deadline that’s nearing. 

Felix relaxed his back against the comfort of his expensive office chair and spoke, “I can’t write anything.”

People have fears inside their body. One or  _ two  _ that makes their toes curl up and back away with evident patches of sweat forming up on their foreheads. Those things or situations that make their mind go blank, their mouth an utter mess and activate their very own fight or flight mode which leans more to the latter in the end. People have fears because people are just humans. They have limitations. 

Schools tend to teach you about religions which bestow the highest ordeal and humans which are the top-tier of the food chain and all of that. So much for being the top, the highest, when the moment you reach out for the sky and leap, you’ll end up suffering from your ambitions and trample on the dirt.

Fears are there to invoke  _ that  _ limitation.

And to a writer that Felix is, his fear is  _ this. _

“You’ve been saying that for the past week, Lix. You  _ really  _ cannot write?” Felix felt that his friend was already up to his butt and snatching his car keys from the drawer, ready to drive his way to his apartment, “ _ Hyunjin,  _ what makes you think I can write something about love when I haven’t even experienced it?” Felix just wanted to make a point.

And for sure, Hyunjin just wanted the same thing that he does.

“You released three  _ fucking  _ books about love and you’re telling me that you don’t know how to write it?” Felix heard a sound of glass clicking and Hyunjin’s gulping on the other line. The sound faded and eventually turned into a sound of something that clashed, making Felix frown at his phone and pull it away from his ear, “Sorry about that Lix! I had to throw it to the bed to change!”

Felix always hears that from Hyunjin. Not like he can turn blind eye to Hyunjin's point, but it is fairly easy to fabricate. To talk about something that he does not know is different from talking about something that everyone seems to know but him. He just needs to write the right verbs, the  _ right  _ adjectives and describe. He just needs to  _ write  _ it.

Because the beauty in fiction is that it was  _ never _ real to begin with.

“ _ I love you  _ and that’s enough.”

Hyunjin stopped from pushing his head out of the hole of his fresh sweater and just let his chest do the talking for him. Of course,  _ he is a writer.  _ Talking about loving someone is fairly easier than actually doing it,  _ right _ ?

“For sure, you do. I’m going to bring ramen over there,” was the last sentence Hyunjin said before finally ending the call.

Felix just shrugged at the thought and waited for Hyunjin to finally push in the password to his front door and offer him the ramen he’s been talking about.

**_03:32_ **

Felix let out a groan after finally deciding to just close his laptop and stop writing because there’s really nothing forgivable that comes out of his very groggy self. It’s either some sickly dialogues that he will never hear from anyone in real life or trying to describe the situation that he decided to stick up with as he proceeds in giving a prologue about his main characters.

_ A mess,  _ really, that’s what he is.

He for sure just wanted to resign and give it all up to the spirits listening to him. 

But a sudden beep from his front door made him straighten up his back and beam up. Anticipating just the same man he was talking to earlier, the said man kicked the door open and came in Felix’s sight with two plastic bags on his hand and a mean face, pouting at him, “You could have welcomed me or something,” but still proceeded in the kitchen counter just around the corner, “You look entirely out of yourself, Lix.”

Felix always finds comfort in Hyunjin. Maybe it’s the way Hyunjin’s sweat smells nice to him or maybe it’s the way Hyunjin pulls him to his chest whenever he’s feeling down, not being able to write anything. Hyunjin would always comfort him and rub his back, drawing circles and pressing his palm against him. If he ever says something about him being a writer but not being able to write and should just be a slumper since he keeps on slumping, Hyunjin would  _ always  _ know what to do with him.

Hyunjin is his friend and should  _ only  _ be his friend, Felix knew that so well. But Hyunjin is just too soft, cuddly and warm to let go and be the friend that he is.

A writer should know when to start and when to stop. A writer should know when to draw the line and finally call certain actions as the end.

But writers are writers for a reason.

And that is because they are  _ good  _ with their words.

_ “You’re already here so Felix was already found _ . _ ” _

Hyunjin stopped his tracks for the second time around. Three in the morning is one of those hours that feels stupidly fast and  _ both  _ of them knew that so well. If only Hyunjin didn’t need to sleep and wake up at seven in the morning, he’d spend his three o’clock with Felix and beside Felix. If only Minho wouldn’t tear his ears off later after being late for their dance practice, Hyunjin would’ve spent his entire day with Felix.

And if only Felix isn’t a writer, then maybe he  _ could  _ have loved Hyunjin the same way his characters do in his novels.

“Why don’t you use that as your plot?” Hyunjin suggested as he prepared the bowls for the ramen he brought. He took out a huge plastic bowl and two pairs of chopsticks, unpacked the fishcakes he was able to find as he walked towards his car and brought it to Felix’s table top, waving his hand to get Felix’s attention.

“Are you telling me to write our story?” Felix furrowed his brows and stood up, walking towards Hyunjin who tied his hair up and rolled up his sleeves, “Like how you proofread my  _ shits  _ and tell me how my characters should fall in love?”  _ Well, yeah, maybe that _ . Hyunjin dismissed Felix’s suggestions and offered him the chopsticks. Hyunjin wanted to stop the conversation right there and just focus on finally eating the ramen, but Felix wouldn’t stop. He looked like his mind just got a light bulb, screeching a sound of  _ ting  _ and the idea just popped, “Where you were actually just telling me to fall in love with  _ you _ !”

_ Gosh, please, just eat _ . Hyunjin rolled his eyes and just proceeded to slurp his noodles. Felix sat right beside him and hugged his arm, squeezing a little bit of his biceps and pressing his lips against it.

“You’re really wonderful! I am going to  _ write  _ that!”

Write it, bloom a life out of it. But as long as they’re written on papers and never in reality, only a part of it exists. In a story where Hyunjin and Felix are the main characters, Hyunjin already fell in love and though it was not his intention to beta Felix’s works and make him adjust, at least one of the main characters is living up to their genre--  _ romance. _

**_03:57_ **

You need not to be a chef or a professional to know that ramen is not made up of anything that is intoxicating. It only needs beef broth, scallions, onions, eggs, and other condiments or saliva that the cooks included as they prepared the soup. But some ingredient is in the ramen that they ate that intoxicated both of their minds. Hazy, fogged and drowsy to the feeling as Felix caged Hyunjin’s knees between his legs.

Hyunjin was surprised too,  _ really _ , but what he didn’t know is that Felix will surprise him even more.

“Help me,” Felix ordered, not requested. His eyes directed Hyunjin and let the taller cower at his dictating presence, “Teach me something about  _ love _ ,” and asked for something that Hyunjin immediately shook his head for.

Never will he teach Felix love. Never, unless Felix finally  _ felt  _ him.

“Why not?!” Felix let out his disbelief with a huff and pushed Hyunjin further to his couch, adamant to the effects of his actions to Hyunjin, “You were  _ helping  _ me earlier!”

_ Wrong _ . Hyunjin wasn’t helping Felix at all, Felix just assumed that help from Hyunjin and even if Felix pushed his whole body to the farthest area of the couch, Hyunjin still prioritize the fishcakes that were too spicy for Felix, so the lone pair of the chopsticks was on his right hand and his left holding Felix’s waist.

“I didn’t even say anything about your story, I just said that you looked out of yourself and there you go using my words to your advantage.”

Felix found the way Hyunjin tries to push him off, cute, adorable, pretty and even exhilarating. He wanted to squeal and tuck Hyunjin to his body, away from the warmth of Hyunjin’s lousy sweater.

But it’s already four in the morning, does anything good happen at four am?

“Just  _ teach  _ me. Any means possible, come on--” Felix pleaded and took the wideness of Hyunjin’s shoulder to his tiny hands, shaking him to his existence and finally noticing the way Felix’s groin is dangerously near to his crotch.

“Anything?”

“Yes!”

Hyunjin always thought that writers needed to feel something first in order to describe them in detail to their readers. ‘To feel is to live’, that was always passed down generations after generations by textbooks, emphasizing how feeling is the most important sense, but  _ is it, really _ ? Hyunjin knew that he shouldn’t force Felix to step out of his comfort zone, he knew better than anyone else that Felix is clueless and if it weren’t for Hyunjin, Felix might actually be  _ lost,  _ like what Felix told him earlier.

But Hyunjin was aching to touch Felix. He was aching to feel every side of Felix; to see Felix’s side that is hidden, closeted, to hear Felix’s whines,  _ moans even,  _ and grunts, to watch Felix curl up to pleasure, to smell Felix being raw, being natural and being him and to taste Felix,  _ all  _ of Felix.

Before, he believed that writers needed to feel first in order to put their feelings into words, but now, Hyunjin realized that writers had  _ to listen  _ first.

“I love you, Felix. I am not going to say ‘too’ to your I love you earlier because that  _ wasn’t  _ real, but  _ I’m  _ being real. I love you.” Felix’s face tilted to his side, slowly lowering his hips down to finally meet Hyunjin’s thighs with his butt. His face emitted confusion that none of them wanted to sight, but it was there, the second sense--  _ to see _ .

Felix looked for answers on Hyunjin’s face but Hyunjin was just smiling, his lips were swollen from the spiciness he had to ingest from the fishcakes, his ears reddened and his eyes glistened from the tears that may or may not have been because of the spices.

Hyunjin eyed down their hips, colliding. He was already chanting prayers inside his head and stopped every attempt to bolt his hips upward and finally get in contact with a part of the person that he was aching his whole body for.

“I don’t get how that teaches me something about love--” Felix tried to get out of the situation. He may have understood Hyunjin when he professed, but what should he do about the pooling sensation in both his chest and abdomen? He  _ is  _ a writer; one who described every  _ single  _ thing in detail, in words that can be located in the corners of the dictionaries, but  _ this _ , how should he describe  _ this _ ? More of, what should he do with  _ this _ ?

_ Because it will not teach you anything yet, Felix _ . Hyunjin threw the wood he was holding and finally crept his hands on Felix's back, encircling the tiny waist of Felix in between his palms. It was  _ too  _ tiny,  _ too  _ snatched, like the writer didn’t eat for the past few days.

“Let me get this clear to you,” Hyunjin breathed out a shaky voice, feeling his chest tighten from the pressure and lack of air between the two of them. His nose can still sniff the residue of the chili paste on top of his lip and Felix’s pheromones that leaked out of his neck, “What did you ever think of me, Felix?”

It was a question that Hyunjin had always demanded an answer for but never got the courage to ask Felix about. He thought, someday, in the middle of their 2 years long friendship, Hyunjin would be able to finally let go of his feelings for the shorter. He tried  _ so  _ hard to do just that, but it seems like his feelings were just getting tangled up on the strings of words that a writer Felix rambles.

Even a short greeting of good morning makes Hyunjin’s whole day, even a week if that good morning stretches up to Felix wishing him good luck for their dance performances. It wasn’t just the words that Hyunjin liked from Felix, it was  _ Felix _ himself.

Writers are always hidden behind the identity of their words. Their works are like their masks and their words are their attributes. The way they construct each sentence, following a certain grammar rule, was their attitudes. Writers are those faceless people that readers adored.

And if Felix’s readers adore him already, what more if a reader, a proofreader, a prompt bank and a whole Hyunjin exists to watch Felix put parts of himself to his work, failing to see Hyunjin collecting each of those parts, piecing a whole admiration for the said writer?

So much for being a good writer of romance, if you can’t even notice your closest friend catch feelings for you.

**_04:05_ **

Felix wasn’t able to open his mouth and answer Hyunjin’s question. He was left dumbfounded at the sudden entranda and propelled his hand to Hyunjin’s chest as a support. His oversized shirt hanging loosely at his shoulders, creating a view to his collarbones and chest and his newly washed hair that is free from any hair products, obstructed Hyunjin’s view to the kitchen counter making him curse silently inside his head.

“I think of you as my other being,” Felix collected his thoughts and looked deadpan at Hyunjin’s eyes. That was exactly what Hyunjin meant when he said Felix was  _ too  _ good when uses his words. Being someone’s other being does not mean you’re his other half, you’re just the other, a part of any others, making you feel a little bit important but not so much, “Like I depend on you so much,” sometimes you’re a friend, and then the next time, you’re not, “I shared myself to you.” Sharing is such an understatement, “You even saw me naked, Hyunjin,” most especially when secrets are already confided, but can you really blame Hyunjin for aching to feel Felix so badly--” _ Why the fuck are you asking me that _ \--” for wanting to see, listen, smell, touch and  _ taste  _ Felix so badly?

So was Felix even able to know what love is? Probably not.

Because there is one last thing that Hyunjin has to do to finally let the writer experience the bliss of being in love.

Hyunjin smiled at Felix when his eyes brought upon Hyunjin’s own orbs. Hyunjin felt Felix stiffen at his touch and even shiver at the way his fingers danced around his naked torso underneath his shirt. Every circumstance was telling him to do _ it _ , to let Felix know  _ it  _ in a way that only Hyunjin could do.

“You’re a good writer yet you don’t understand that I love you?” Hyunjin asked Felix with a raise of his eyebrows. Felix's face dropped and his hand swatted Hyunjin’s chest, thinking that Hyunjin was just acting silly, “No, Lix, I’m serious. I’m in love with you.”

This time, five minutes after the time check, Felix felt the time stop. Like Hyunjin was the only one that mattered at that moment and his fingers that were rubbing circles were telling him something that books couldn’t ever tell. Felix’s eyes were searching everywhere, from the window right in front of him, his desk that was illuminated by his table lamp, the vase and the stacked papers, only the brown coat was hidden from his sight.

The brown coat that symbolized the promise of coming back.

“If I don’t love you, I wouldn’t drive here at three in the  _ fucking  _ morning and go home by five to take a bath and prepare for my practice at seven and come back here again when you ring my phone.”

**_04:11_ **

Felix surrendered everything he got to pull Hyunjin’s shirt to him and press his lips against him. He was almost tumbling back because of the force but Hyunjin’s hand immediately caught his back and adjusted their position to have Felix straddle his lap with their crotches finally touching. Something underneath their own garments twitched and both of them felt it the moment they touched. Their eyes rolled over to the back of their heads, their hands exploring each other’s necks, napes and back, and each letting out a lewd sound that they never thought they'd ever hear from each other.

Hyunjin successfully fulfilled the desires of his senses. His sense of taste was exploding and the way Felix’s voice stimulated more of his hearing was almost victorious for Hyunjin. His body was still aching, but not the same way that it did earlier, it was just aching from their position, but a position that Hyunjin didn’t want to interrupt.

Were all of these enough to finally let Felix know something about love?

Hyunjin pulled his face away from Felix and Felix only let out a short huff, face contorting to a confusion, almost whining, “What do you want  _ now? _ ” Felix was already growing impatient. Hyunjin snickered and tightened his grip on Felix’s waist, enough to feel a slight pain but not enough to bruise, “Do you know what love  _ is _ to finally write something?”

Felix grumbled and nudged his face against Hyunjin’s neck, latching his lips on an area under his left ear, sucking for a mere second before whispering, “You are  _ love _ , you’re  _ my love _ and I wouldn’t dare to share you with my readers so I might need to improvise, but that will do later, just  _ love me right now _ .”

Felix’s reply was enough for Hyunjin’s hips to involuntarily thrust. They didn’t pay any mind to the time anymore. Hyunjin might leave at five or maybe at six, no one really cares.

Felix sucked Hyunjin’s skin a bit more, enough to create a mark, working his way downwards to his collarbones and licking the medial part straight up to Hyunjin’s Adam’s apple. He ground his hips roughly and felt Hyunjin gulp by the movement of his Adam’s apple.

Seeing Hyunjin with his very dilated pupils, staring at the ceiling above them, mouthing words of pleads and his name, and hearing him moan in between of his heavy breathing were enough to give Felix a grasp of what is beyond a piece of paper could do.

Because fiction doesn’t give you everything. There is an extent to what it can make you imagine, ponder and dream, but feeling the real thing is something far fetched to what his fingers can type. The feeling of Hyunjin succumbing to his arms, legs and his breathy moans were those things that fictions can never make him feel.

Only Hyunjin can.

Hyunjin was there, so Felix was found.

**Author's Note:**

> twt: @hiddenclawsof


End file.
